Your name is BERTIL GAWAIN, dubbed SIR by the Empress herself. 20 sweeps ago you were the CHIVALRIPPER CAPTAIN of the TABLESSE ROUND, an elite imperial task force designed after STORIES FOR WRIGGLERS. But to you these stories were everything. The story of the GREENE KNIGHT, a myth of ancient Alternian lore who would dwell forests and judge those who called themselves loyal to the empire according to his PERSONAL CODE. Those unworthy would be BEHEADED, SCORNED, AND BROUGHT BEFORE THE EMPRESS, where she would be ridiculed for her improper teachings. Legends of the Greene Knight faded with time, wherein the final pages claimed he was EXECUTED by the Empress for TALKING SHIT. 15 sweeps ago, on a hunt, you found an axe stuck in the stump of a tree. You felt it CALL TO YOU, or so you say, and you felt it resonate to your touch (or so you say also). You picked it up and, in your mind, became the GREENE KNIGHT ITSELF. CERTAIN THINGS happened, the details of which do not matter and are, as you say every time someone asks, LOST TO TIME, and you are no longer employed under the Empress. You are the LONE CHIVALRIPPER, THE GREENE KNIGHT, WIELDER OF THE AXE GREENE, and the HARBINGER OF ALL THAT IS UNJUST. Your relationship with the Empire is extremely complex and confusing. Your interests DO NOT MATTER. Your hobbies DO NOT MATTER. Despite being called 'Sir', your gender DOES NOT MATTER. You are your cause. You speak "with such certitude as the Greene Knight himself mightst have borne." And typically reference the KNIGHT'S CODE that you live and judge by. You claim to have an IMMORTAL BODY, but who really knows if that is true or not. These nights, you wander the forests of Alternia with your lusus, SURTUR, searching for trolls to JUDGE. https://i.postimg.cc/28MYgTNF/image-2026-05-30-194531606.png
